The Quiet Shame
by Symmetrical
Summary: He couldn't even defeat his first opponent, a rookie female lawyer. What right did he have to bear the von Karma name? // His beloved Dollie had betrayed him, never truly caring for his wellbeing. // young!Edgeworth/young!Phoenix /Spoilers for end of T
1. The flawed

Disclaimer :; Phoenix Wright and all its characters are the property of Capcom. Symmetrical claims ownership to nothing.

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The bottomless cup trembled as it was placed as gently as it could be on the wooden, beer-stained table. A man of his calibre wouldn't usually be at such a place, but tonight Miles Edgeworth felt freedom enough to drown his sorrows – although wine didn't seem to do that so much anymore. 21 years old, but a failure in the eyes of the man who had brought him up so unlovingly. Manfred von Karma had spent the last 37 years perfectly prosecuting perfectly guilty defendants, and yet Miles had failed to convict even his first. Regardless of how many he had sentenced since then, and how many he would continue to sentence, his past would never be forgotten by those who cared. He couldn't even defeat a rookie lawyer, a rookie female lawyer. What did he deserve to bear the von karma name on his shoulders? His own sister was a prosecutor now, at the mere age of 13, surpassing the 21 year old so effortlessly. Franziska von Karma was perfection personified.

Miles Edgeworth wasn't perfect.


	2. The betrayed

The racket the rest of the occupants of the small bar mostly drowned out the quiet sniffles of the corner table. The pink sweater was a beacon for taunts, but inebriation blurred a majority of colours, making the young, red-scarfed man seem dressed in a pale blue and looking a lot stronger than the average body builder. His Dollie had left him, not only left him, but tried to kill him. His beloved Dollie, whom had caused him to be the centre of envy, had wanted to sever their ties so easily, and frame him for murder. She'd wanted to save herself. His beloved Dollie, who had been brought to him by fate in that dusty library, had never really loved him, but merely use him for hiding evidence that would so easily convict her. His fingers tightened unconsciously on the transparent mug that swirled sloppily in an orange mess. Phoenix disliked drinking, and he was told that it wouldn't help his cold. No, orange juice was a much safer bet, healthy, citric goodness with just a hint of tang that could make any mouth water. It's colour reminded him somewhat of his Dollie's hair. She would always be his Dollie, regardless of what the strict, perfectly postured lawyers told him, and the detention centre guards that ushered him out quickly. Always.

But he could never be her Pheeny again.


	3. The unwelcome

A spiked head was raised slightly, doleful eyes scanning the rowdy area, spotting a grey head amongst the swaying crowd. A familiar grey head. Eyes tried to focus through the tears, mildly covering their eyes with a depressing film. His hands fidgeted, clumsily pushing himself up in an effort to better see the unusual man placed awkwardly in an area unfit for such a straight back and a posh, intelligent aura. His silver hair hung lightly over his face, but nevertheless Phoenix recognized the shaven face and brown grey eyes that Phoenix had always said reminded him of the storm clouds that released downpours of rain onto unsuspecting victims. His fingers fumbled with grabbing his glass, his feet tapping against the floor in indecision. Should he announce his presence, a university student who had achieved nothing? Should he distract the man who had obviously made something of himself in his short twenty-something years? After all, he wasn't sure his would be a welcome presence.


	4. The wanted

Suddenly, there was an alien glass being held by an alien hand on his table that had been picked so that he would not be bothered by the drunken masses. And a familiar voice was addressing him with a familiar accent that he couldn't quite place. And a familiar man was sitting across from him, telling him it'd "been a long time, Edgeworth", and asking "is it alright if I sit here? There isn't anyone else here is there? Because I didn't see anyone and I didn't want to disturb anything so…" and a familiarly sheepish grin was place on a familiar face, with familiar eyes watching him carefully for any reactions that would give away uncomfort or upset. And Edgeworth was watching, confused, questioning this man who knew him so well, the young schoolboy, sniffling behind a desk and crying that he hadn't done it, replaced with a pink clothed man who seemed to be able to fit in anywhere, to be friends with anyone, with a caring manner and a friendly smile that people would always be drawn to. And Phoenix saw the wannabe defense attorney grown into an attractive, blue-sweatered man who seemed embarrassed out of his usual magenta, gold-encrusted suit, a man who would turn straight men gay if they bothered to actually look at such a perfect face, one which no emotion could make seem ugly. He had probably fulfilled his past wants, probably a defense attorney at this age, always superior to the boy who couldn't even stick up for himself when he knew that he was innocent. But when mouths were opened and words were exchanged, the silence encompassing the two seemed to erase any previous signs of knowing each other, probing, careful questions asked with uncertainty, each wanting to be with the other. Each wanting to know the other. Each wishing that a certain young boy hadn't left a certain school at a certain age before a certain friendship could truly flourish.


	5. The feared

And so questions turned to answers, a suddenly defenceless prosecutor wanting to tell someone what he'd been through, someone who he knew he could trust. And Phoenix managed to comfort, with a hug and a smile and a "it'll get better soon", as he heard the streaming words that declared he'd forgotten about being a defense attorney, although the true reason was always skipped around, as if the man didn't wish to divulge. Miles felt a weight leaving his chest, hearing of other troubles, how his lost friend had been close to being poisoned by the woman he'd failed to find guilty, the woman who's past should have been unearthed in a desperate quest for the truth. How the woman who fought so bravely against him had then defended Phoenix, finding said woman guilty. How such a novice bimbo had beaten him. But strangely, he didn't care right now. Maybe the atmosphere of the drunken bar had enveloped him, the wine dulling his senses with its crimson trickery. Maybe it was because he was finally with a friend who liked him because of who he was, not what he was.

And as Phoenix and Miles parted, leaving the soon-to-become-violent ruckus behind, it was with a smile and a promise of seeing each other again soon.

It was three years before they saw each other again, and the smile had long since been rubbed off Miles Edgeworth's face, now etched with irritation and anger at the still-grinning, sheepish defense attorney opposite him, the man to finally defeat such a feared man.

After all, Miles Edgeworth wasn't perfect.

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It's done, haha. Hope you enjoyed 3


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